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It was a blustery weekend in Muskrat Flats. The wind was conducting a symphony as the poplars bordering the vineyard...

Tuesday, April 8, 2008

Jiggs part 2..."I'll get up and Fly away...Fly Away"

The title of this post hearkens back to a lyric from a Grateful Dead song, Wharf Rat. It is a classic tale of an alcoholic named August West who tells his story to a stranger, presumably another penniless addict/alcoholic, in exchange for his time and undivided attention. He touches on his desire to stop drinking, noting that his life is unmanageable and hoping the "good Lord willing" he can break the cycle of addiction and "live the life I should." The song is so precisely constructed, and pinpoints the moment when one person caught in the grips of the disease of addiction can help another.

So, there I was, sitting in my Favorite Coffee Shop with a man who had achieved legendary status, in my lifetime, as the person who made the decision to shoot the chimpanzee which would eventually become my iconic Museum display.

Baldy Lee sat back, took a swig of his coffee and pondered a response to the question I had asked him about his background, prior to his appointment as Superintendent of the Springfield Parks and Recreation Department...

Earlier in the day I had gone to Forest Park and visited the Monkey House. John Bilodeaux, another familiar face from the Blue Moon, took the time to Talk to me about the Monkey House and Jiggs.

"I don't remember Jiggs escaping, I was a baby at the time, but I heard the stories from my older siblings, and yes they were familiar with Jiggs." Bilodeaux, who has been an employee of the Parks Dept. since 1991, grew up a short Distance away on Bryant St., about six blocks away from Forest Park.

As we toured the former Monkey House, I noted the glass roof was still intact. There were pocket doors separating the platform where the animals were displayed from the out side exercise area. There was a slight trough in the concrete floor leading to a drain somewhat obscured by pentagonal concrete templates which had the upcoming baseball season's home plates setting up within. The iron bars set into the concrete were still visible where they had been cut.

I asked again, how did Jiggs get out? Bilodeaux's face lit up with an awed expression and he demonstrated as if he were pulling at two iron bars. "He pried them apart, ripped it out."

Bilodeaux began to speak about other parts of the Park. "We really don't have that many pictures of the Park, like the Stone House ( Shelter for Winter skaters near the Duck Pond which later hosted an Art Gallery) and the Barney House all we really had of them were Postcards. They were the only source of information."

Bilodeaux got his start in the Parks Dept. working in the Sign shop. when that closed he moved to the maintenance dept. I asked do people often ask about Jiggs? He replied, "More often people ask me more about the stuff in the woods. There are old benches set up near the Horse Trails. and there are stone fireplaces set deep into the Forest on Snake Hill. On Red Hill there is a set of steps constructed with old grinding stones Mr. Barney's factory used for grinding the blades of the skates.

He noted that some of the other structures in the woods were constructed by ECOS teachers. ECOS (Environmental Center for Our Schools) is an environmental education program offered to students in grades 4-7 in the Springfield Public Schools. The program teaches about the various habitat of plants, animals which can be found in Forest Park. the also have a course in Winter survival skills.

I was supposed to have a photographer with me that day, but he was "unavailable."Let's just say it was probably a good thing we didn't see each other that day.I headed to the Blue Moon alone, to meet Mr. Lee. He swigged his coffee and began to speak again.

Lee had retired from the Park and Rec Department, years ago. He gave me his background. He was originally from Walpole, MA, and graduated from Sanborn Seminary in 1948. He went to Springfield College and ended up in Wesport, CT for eight years before taking a job with the West Springfield, Parks and Rec Department. He did some work with the Ludlow Boys Club before being tapped by Parks Commissioner Romeo J. Cyr. to fill the position of Superintendent in Springfield in 1964.

Lee sipped his coffee again. And told me how he was Spending his retirement. As, Baldy had mentioned earlier in the conversation. He had been a drinker. He knew had a problem and it brought him to his knees. He finally surrendered and joined a 12-step fellowship.

These days he spends his free time bringing meetings, his experience; strength and hope to inmates in the Enfield State Prison in Connecticut.

"I like working with the kids, (young adults) in the prisons. If they can get out of jail and stay away from alcohol and drugs, they have a chance for a great life."

My mind started to race. Did he know? Did my Dad call him and tell him I'm having a problem, or was it one of those it takes one to know one situations? Perhaps he glimpsed the tell tale scars on my battle wearied hands and arms.

It was probably the latter. Even though I was fairly straight and lucid at our meeting, I was caught up in the grips of the insanity of addiction and destined to go out with a friend later in the morning, which meant we would spend the majority of the day getting high.

"You know these kids today ... it is amazing to me how cocaine has destroyed lives. They want to stop, they know what it does and they can't stop until they end up in jail or worse." He shook his head.

At this point in the conversation, I almost fessed up. I almost told him that my days involved me acting like the worst kind of addict obsessed with my drugs of choice, and what would happen to me when those would run out. I wanted to tell him how I was just like the kids he was talking about; How I wanted to stop but didn't know how. I caught a lot of pain that summer. And engaged in activities I had sworn, to myself, I never would. I wish I had the courage to reach out to him. He could have helped me, if he couldn't he surely would know someone who could.

He would have not let me out of his sight until I was safely in some detox facility somewhere. He and his brothers would have shown me the love that I needed. The love that is brought forth by living the principles of the 12th Step.

The 12th step reads - "Having had a Spiritual Awakening as a result of these steps, we tried to carry the message to the Alcoholic/Addict who still suffers, and practice these principles in all of our affairs."

That message, and the one I desperately needed to hear that afternoon, is - that there is a better way to live. If you just keep with it, you will never have to pick up ever again. I wouldn't have to get high in the morning and before I went to sleep.

I spoke of Mr. Lee having something I wanted. I wanted that peace, that serenity. I wanted that confidence that made an old school white male go into a prison and truly want to bring a message of hope to people of a different culture and economic bracket. A message of hope to another human being regardless of their background, just simply because the needed help and did not know how to love themselves. A message which was freely given to him on the day he took his last drink.

They say the only requirement is a Desire to stop. I have had that desire for a long, long time. A lot longer than it took for the progression to set in and chip away at my morals, character, and self-confidence. The disease still kicks my ass if I let it.

All of these what ifs. That was the past. Who knows what would have happened if I had come clean that day and told him I was an addict and needed help. The funny thing is, even though the disease does chip away at your pride and allow you to participate in progressively fiendish behavior, it leaves you just enough pride to keep that vital information inside, to let you believe. "I can stop any time I want to, just not today."

I am getting better everyday. There have been triumphs and there have been challenges. There have been slip ups. There is still insanity in my life. But the question is, how am I going to deal with it ... Today?

It wasn't long after meeting with Mr. Lee that I did begin walking the road to recovery, which explains why almost three years later I am writing of our encounter. It has been a long road and a bumpy road. Today my desire to stop using outweighs the desire to harm myself, and when it doesn't I must take certain steps to make sure I don't pick up, such as calling others who have been there and worked through the pain and the quagmire of early recovery. For those people, I am grateful. I am grateful that there are men and women out there who are willing to share their experience to help me survive and "Live the life I should."

There may be cries of foul amongst you readers, Did I break anonymity? I don't think I did. He spoke of his experience freely, knowing that he was being interviewed for an article which would eventually be published. Yes he is a member of an un-named 12 step program, Any more than that you do not need to know.

1 comment:

Anonymous
said...

Hi Paul,

Thanks for the stories on Forest Park. I volunteered at Trailside Museum with Bill TOmpkins for several years, about 1970. If I remember correctly it was either Hazel or Tuffy the Tiger whose cage was adjacent to Jiggs and Nancy.

There were four cages on that side of the Monkey House, When I was there Harry and Tillie were together, in the first, and had several litters of cubs, then Tuffy in the cage next to the lions, and the next housed Hazel, a young tigress. (I'm not sure when she arrived, but perhaps after the lions were paired up.

I spent a lot of time with little Jiggsy, and was allowed behind the chain link fence, so he and I would often hold hands. He was prone to trickery though, and one day he slipped a ring off a visitor's hand, and popped it into his mouth and climbed to the top of the cage. I went close to try to encourage him to return the ring to me; he climbed down but was teasing me with the ring in his hand, and when I reached through the bars to take the proffered ring HE BIT ME. He clamped down with his canine tooth on my right index finger, at the base of my nail, and he pressed just hard enough to turn my nail blue, but not enough to break the skin. He let go after a minute and gave me the ring, which I returned to the owner.

This was the least of his tricks, I often saw him fill his cheeks with water, climb to the top of the cage and wait for a crowd to gather by the fence. He would then spray his fans with a shower of water. Other times he urinated from up there when the visitors were standing unawares beneath him. He would grin and slap the concrete when everyone roared with indignation.

I also remember a blind Rhesus monkey named Susie in the cage directly across from Jiggsy and Nancy, the last cage on that aide. She was so gentle and would sit quietly and extend her hands through the bars when she heard footsteps. She knew my voice, and knew I would bring her treats from the bags of stale pastries we had at Trailside. She would stroke the back of my hand before she took the goodies.

Among the outdoor critters, my favorites were the sun bears who would delicately hold an ice cream cone and lick it clean before eating the cone. And Rex the timber wolf, located in a short concret run next to the red and grey foxes and the dingoes, near the shuffleboard courts and snack bar. My parents often allowed me to bring a big knucklebone for Rex, and the caretaker let me in to give it to him. Big dog, small cage.

Oh yeah, and Snowball, she almost grabbed me, too. I had a large chunk of frozen fish from Trailside and I went over to her cage to give it to her. I pushed it against the chain link she was enclosed by, and she started to pull it through but it caught, so as I reached to grab it and give it a push again she suddenly ROARED and she tore into the chunk, chainlink fence and all, and yanked it through. Then she calmly went off to eat it. Yikes, I counted my fingers and was glad to find ten.

I am glad that the monkey house is gone, the concrete and iron bars saddened me then, and still do. Yet, I can't help but be thankful that I had the opportunity to shares thousands of hours with the animals housed there.

I went on to get my biology degree and became the aquarist at the Springfield Science Museum, another place I spent thousands of hours in when I was a kid.

Animals and kids, a good combination if you want to raise kids with true humanity.

Muskrat Flats Characters

Coleman Blackstone - aka Coley. The illegitimate Great Grandson of Coleman Hawthorne. The sole beneficiary of an estate built upon a paternity suit filed on his behalf by his Grandmother. Although the richest man in Muskrat Flats, Coley developed a public persona of a homeless hermit. A Native of the Flats, He lives with is dog Chubby.

Gomer Eckstein - aka Gomer Shabbos, Sonny or Sonny boy. The lead singer of the hardcore klezemer band Gomer Shabbos and the Hook Nosed Satans. He is a Friend of Jimmy K's and proprietor of the First Step is a Doozy Jump School at Muskrat Flats Municipal Airport. A Muskrat Flats native, he graduated Summa Cum Loudly Amherst College Class of 1987.

Jeff Nelson - Owner operator of Wake of the Flood Plumbing. He is a member of the Odd Fellows. He is a Friend of Bill W and Jimmy K. In his spare time he blogs and is active in the many pagents and re-enactments which happen at various Festivals fairs and celebration in Muskrat Flats. He is divorced and has custody of an 11 year old daughter.

Jenny Smith - aka Sveltlana or Sveltie. She is the vintner at the Muskrat Flats Farm and Agricultural Museum. She and her staff produce award winning wines from grapes grown and harvested at the museum. She has rugged but pleasant features looking like she may very well have defected from an Eastern European Circus. She is a Muskrat Flats native and a graduate of UC Davis class of 1988. She is an accomplished hula hoop dancer.

Jeremiah Smith - aka Jerry. He is the director of the the Farm and Agricultural Museum. He came to Muskrat Flats for a couple of days on an invitation from Gomer. He fell in love with the town, and a beautiful woman, his wife, Jenny. He never left. He is a graduate of Hampshire College 1987.

Moses Eckstein - aka Moe. A pseudo beat generation writer and musician. He is Gomer's father. He is reaching the end of his road as he has been stricken with cancer. Moe is a writer whose political satire is published in a nationally syndicated column. He is the author of three books.

Samuel Coleman Hawthorne III - aka Sheriff Hawthorne. His family made their fortune in the rum business. A Beacon Hill bred and Harvard Educated lawyer. Sheriff Hawthorne was intstrumental in the incorporation of Muskrat Flats. An Odd Fellow, a prankster and jokester with a taste for Bourbon and Miss Right Now, his vision of what Muskrat Flats should be can still be felt today.

Sid Bartelby - An Odd Fellow and community organizer (as if that is a BAD thing) Last year he organized charitable events which directly benefitted the Muskrat Flats community with over $375,000 raised. He also secured federal grants to establish an art district near the Farm Museum. Sid's wife Iva helps with the daily morning coffee and muffins, which have been enjoyed by many in Muskrat Flats and envied world wide.

About Me

I am a single Dad. I am a chef by trade. I have had a long association with the Drunk Stuntmen where I functioned as a writer for their website. I play guitar, I make glass art and often submit to my bohemian artistic leanings which creates an air of solace and serenity in my life. I front a band called Glenwood Mills. We rock!!